A Demon's Steed
by morph
Summary: My story on how the Horseman first got his horse. Yes, I know this story is short, but it's my 1st fanfic!Updated! The Hessian and Daredevil are going to America...
1. The Black Foal

I do not own Sleepy Hollow, The Headless Horseman or his horse, Daredevil. Pastor Otto is mine though. My description of the Horseman is based on Tim Burton's movie. 

A Demon's Steed

Pastor Otto was a good man. He was a third generation pastor at the local church and a horse breeder. For decades, his family had been breeding white horses. Being a very holy man, Pastor Otto believed that the pure, white color of his horses was a sign of God's peace and spirit, white being a very pure color in his opinion.

One dark and cold night, Pastor Otto heard painful whinnying coming from out in the pasture where all of his horses were kept for the night. Knowing that one of his prize mares was very pregnant and due to give birth any day now, Pastor Otto just thought that she was in labor, and that he would wake up the next morning to see a brand new, pure white foal out in his pasture.

The mare did give birth that night, but with someone very dark and evil watching over her...

The next morning was cloudy and very foggy. Pastor Otto rushed out to his pasture to locate the new arrival to his prize-winning, white heard. What he saw chilled him to the bone. All of his horses were clustered in one far corner of the pen. Their body language told him that they were terrified, almost too terrified to move.

At the far corner of the pasture opposite the rest of the frightened heard was his prize mare, the one who had given birth the previous night. She was lying on her side, dead. Her face was frozen in pain and fear. Her once beautiful, pure white coat was covered in blood, yet there was no wound on her.

Grazing contently beside her was a brand-new, pitch-black male foal. He looked healthy and strong, and not at all afraid of anything.

From all this, Pastor Otto concluded two things: One, that this black foal must have been the son of his once prize mare, now lying there dead covered in blood. Two, that it wasn't his equally white stallion that had fathered the foal, but the Devil.  
Before Pastor Otto could do anything else, a man about 27 years old walked out of the near-by woods. He had black hair that was kind of wavy and icy blue eyes. He wore a black cloak and had a long, sheathed sword hanging from his belt.  
"Are you looking to sell that foal?" the man asked. When he spoke, Pastor Otto could see that he had filed his teeth down to sharp points.

"If you want him, you can have him," Pastor Otto said, taking a step back and clutching his Bible. "I want nothing to do with him! Take him away from me now! You won't have to pay anything."

"Danke," the man said. And with that, he tied a rope around the black foal's neck and led him away. Only once the foal and the man were gone did Pastor Otto kneel down to pray for God's protection and the other horses begin to calm down.


	2. A Dark Team

Originally, I wasn't going to continue this story, but it has been requested that I do, so I will. This is biased on Tim Burton's "Sleepy Hollow," which I do not own. This chapter is also quite short, and it takes place a few years after the first chapter. Here it is. 

The scarecrow stood in a lonely field. A brisk wind blew, blowing the thin rags that were draped over its out stretched arms so that it vaguely resembled clothing. A small pumpkin served as the scarecrow's head. All in all, it seemed as if the scarecrow was like a lone soldier guarding his land, his field, against all invaders.

Suddenly, the sound of a horse's gallop on the cold ground broke the silence. The gallop had a fierce bite to the sound of it; an almost ferrous anger as if the horse it's self had been spawn of the Devil. There was the sound of the scrape of metal on metal and a large, dark shape blew past the scarecrow. There was a swooshing sound, and the scarecrow's once very secure head went flying. It landed on the ground with a sickening squish.

A large, black horse trotted up to the downed pumpkin. Astride the horse was a tall man with pale skin, dark wavy hair, cold blue eyes, and an over all ferocious appearance. He wore amour and a black cloak with a cape. His high boots had spurs, and in one gloved hand he held a long, sharp sword with a dragon engraved into the handle. The horse also had a ferocious look to him. He was very muscular, but at the same time incredibly sleek, and despite his ruthless appearance, he also looked healthy and well cared for. It was obvious that the horse and his rider were a very close and highly successful team. They also appeared to be quite fearless.

The horseman smiled, displaying his sharp teeth, down at the headless scarecrow. "Well done!" a voice called. A large army officer with quite a few medals attached to his uniform rode up on a chocolate steed. He stopped his horse near the horseman. "You are a fine Hessian, and that horse runs like that Devil! What was his name again?"  
"Daredevil," the Hessian replied. Daredevil snorted.

"Where ever did you get him?" the officer asked.

"A horse breeder gave him to me as a colt," the Hessian replied. "I've been training him ever since then for war." Daredevil pawed the ground with one sharp hoof. The officer's horse, which was much smaller then Daredevil, began to twitch and swivel his ears nervously.

"Well," the officer said, "it appears that very soon you will get your chance at war. Over in America, there have been some disputes and the Americans want to separate from England's rule. The British have requested some help, and our German princes have decided to send over some men. One of the men they're going to send over is you. You and your steed here." He stopped and glanced at the Hessian's face, which he had been trying to avoid because of its frightening appearance. A kind of unnatural glee had developed in the Hessian's eyes. Daredevil too, looked excited at the news. "Of course, there'll be a payment given to you for going," the officer continued wearily at their excitement at the chance to fight.

"Oh, no payment will be necessary, sir," the Hessian said. "You won't have to pay us to go."

"Very well, then," the officer replied. By then, his horse had grown even more nervous of Daredevil, who seemed eager to run again and fight, but the Hessian kept him still. "You and your horse will depart in two weeks. Your main station will be just outside of New York; in a small area the locals call Sleepy Hollow. I wish you luck, Hessian," the officer concluded and he turned his horse to leave, which it was only too glad to do so.

"Danke, sir," the Hessian said as his officer rode off. He glanced again at the decapitated scarecrow and imagined it was a dead American soldier. He smiled and Daredevil gave and excited nicker. "This is going to be fun," the Hessian thought to himself. The sheathed his sword and nudged Daredevil in the ribs. They trotted away to go prepare for their journey, leaving the scarecrow alone once again in the field.


End file.
